Stormy Night
by Denkinasu
Summary: Brassa, a Stormcloak soldier on a recon mission, breaks away for some alone time. However, it lands her in more trouble than she bargained for; and a new life she had never wanted. Inspired by the Dawnguard DLC that I don't have... . Rated T for future gore. Will be rewritten with more detail. Alternative Universe, pre-Dragonborn.


12th of Rain's Hand 4E 201*

A warm wind tugged at the Nord woman's dark hair as she stood with other looking out over Helgen. The ground rolled away steeply and snow blanketed the small overlook, the trees bursting with fresh spring life. Brassa wiped a deep brown strand of hair away with her pale hands as two other Stormcloaks stood by her awaiting orders. A female recruit and Ralof, her friend she had met growing up in Windhelm were silent*.

"What are they up to?" the recruit asked nervously, peering at the small bustling Imperial village.

"Nothing so far, I don't think Tullius has made his way to Helgen yet." Brassa answered, soothing the nervous woman's nerves. Ralof scoffed from behind her, and Brassa let her pale blue eyes fall on him incredulously.

"This is a waste of time, I think Ulfric just wanted us out in the field." he said, the breeze pulling at his blonde hair.

"It is not a waste, it's recon. And now we can rest peacefully knowing those Imperial bastards aren't up to anything." Brassa snorted, moving away from the precipice. The recruit and Ralof watched her carefully, the temperamental woman stiff in the chilly spring breeze.

"Ralof, take the recruit back with you and report." she said somewhat tiredly. An air of uncertainty hung there for a minute, before Ralof nodded and began jogging towards the woods.

"Brassa," he noted over his shoulder, "What will you do?"

A thin smile spread across her face, "I'm going to scour and see if I can find anything of use, or any True Sons or Daughters willing to join in the fight. I'll return to Windhelm in a few days if anything interesting comes up. Send the Jarl my regards." she dipped her head and Ralof smirked before calling to the recruit to follow him down the mountain side.

Brassa watched them go, sighing in relief when they were out of sight. Her tense shoulders eased, and her hand grasped one of the two steel swords at her hip. Her pale eyes caught sight of the citizens below, small flecks from her post. A few minutes passed and she herself moved away from the edge, heading south of Helgen in the shadow of the trees. A good mile passed until the faint sounds of civilization were consumed with the sounds of wildlife.

She didn't much care for lying, but she needed some solitude from her constant companions. Leaping onto the worn pathway, she let the warm sunshine engulf her back and looked around. Alone in the wilderness, the noise of bees buzzing filled her ears cordially. The land sloped upwards on both sides, and with thinking, the young woman began galloping forward.

An hour passed as the Nord continued her lope into the wilds, breathing in the crisp air greedily. Old snow from the past winter still littered the ground as she came to a cross-road. Brassa briefly wondered how far she had come, eying the two paths. Both were well-worn, and looking up the right path she saw how it wounded upwards.

The road picked it's way out of a mountain, stunted trees growing next to the path. Her feet moved onto the cold stones, sprinting upwards passed boulders. A few deers jerked away from their grazing to see the odd spectacle and hurriedly jump into seclusion.

Snow had begun to drift down from the sky as Brassa came over the hill. A flake hit her nose, and melted quickly. Below the pathway, a fort stood ominously and a spark of interest filled the Nord. Searching a small pocket on her Stormcloak armor, she fiddled for a piece of paper. Her map unfolded, her eyes rested on the small building of Helgen and traced a path south. Falkreath was west from her path, but nothing on her map told her anything of the quiet fort below*. Grumbling irately, she put the paper back and set off again.

Her feet moved over the dirty snow, her eyes focused on finding the door. Praying that the building was not infested with bandits or skeevers, she found the decrepit wooden door. It moaned as she let the midday light slice the darkness, and she left it open a crack as she entered. Musty drafts of air hit her nose, and she wrinkled it in disgust. Something else did too.

Copper. Then very slowly the smell of a torch became mixed in. The Nord smelled death; the stench of blood and decay faint. Brassa moved forward very cautiously, pupils wide and taking in the darkness.

"And what do we have here?" a voice growled silkily.

**~~~Well, that starts off the beginning of Brassa's story. In honor of Dawnguard coming out (and me having a PS3 -.-) and it not being about the Falmer like a lot of people thought, I decided it was time for Brassa's story. In regards to **_**Of Fur, Tails, and Scales**_** and **_**More Roads and Travels for Tomorrow**_**, they are on a brief hiatus...school started again. . **

**Asterisks:**

**12****th**** of Rain's Hand 4E 201*-Roughly equivalent to April 12****th**** (before the Dragonborn comes on in Hearthfire)**

**she had met growing up in Windhelm were silent*-Ralof and Brassa are about the same age, though Brassa is younger. I know Ralof grew up in Riverwood, but this is a reference to a visit the Nord probably took.**

**the quiet fort below*-Bloodlet Throne...figure it out. The name of the fort, the smell, etc. **

**~I know this is short, but it accomplishes two things:**

**How receptive people are to the story**

**A story about one of my other characters besides Krii**

**R&R**


End file.
